Love's Serendipitous Path
Sunnydale Side up--St. Louis Side Down
Chapter One
by Lisa Y. Drexel
~~1~~
For being nearly 200 years old, I was and still am a bloody fool. I let her go. I didn't follow. I just watched as the love of my demon and souled-vampire life packed her bags, tears staining her red, swollen face—her psyche screaming in pain as the reality of leaving me sunk into her soul and slip out the front door. I could feel her mourning not only me, but the one before—whom she never gave a proper good-bye to in her heart—again, because of me.
Now, she could cry for the loss of both of us.
Oh bloody wonderful for her.
I'm sure she's just thrilled at that prospect. But then, I wouldn't know, because I haven't dared tweaked our link, for fear that just feeling her would send me running back to her and leaving the other one that's here behind to her fate.
I'm a coward.
I can still see her face as she stepped to the front door, the cab honking its horn—feeling as if I just stepped into a ill-fated romance movie as I clung to her desperately, finally forgoing whatever pride I've had by crying in her arms.
She was biting her lips, studying me, almost as if she was memorizing everything about me. I found myself smiling through my tears, thinking to myself how much this young woman has changed me—made me so much more than I was before. Hell, I even could laugh and cry at the same time.
A feat worth god-hood.
She chuckled softly, cupping my face with her warm hands, tears rolling down her face, and tiptoed to kiss me. Her lips, warm and soft, caressed mine as she used our link for the last time, *Be happy. Go to her or I'll bloody stake you myself!*
And she laughed.
And I couldn't help but laugh as well as I yanked her into my arms, holding her tightly against me, memorizing the beat of her heart and that wonderful scent of coconuts and almonds, that was all hers, as my fangs gently scraped her neck and I was able to take one last sip of her delicious blood—unique as her.
*So long, Michelle. Be good and keep that bloody head of yours...I love you.*
The cab driver honked again and I felt Mike growl softly in my chest.
"I gotta go." Her dark gray eyes met mine. "I love you."
Then she quickly disentangled herself from me and carefully slipped out the door into the afternoon light—leaving me in the darkness—more alone than I ever had been in 200 years.
The bloody bitch.
And I couldn't even hate her.
Everything she did, she did out of love.
The fucking bitch.
~~2~~
For three straight days, I did nothing other than drink. I didn't leave. I didn't answer the phone. I didn't bother with the door and my various visitors. Oh, I could tell who they were by their heartbeats or lack thereof.
First came Willow.
Had it only been two days before that I saved her from those fledgling demon-vamps in the park? It seemed like centuries ago.
Her heart was beating somewhat faster than normal, but it always seemed to do that in my presence. She may intellectually and emotionally trust me, but instinctually, she knew she was still a human and a possible food source. But despite its accelerated pace, I still recognized it.
I didn't bothering answering.
There was nothing she could say to me to make me feel better. And I knew that's why she had come to see me. Of all the Sunnydale clan, Willow was the one Mike was closest to. Although the hacker didn't know of her pre-immortal status, it still didn't dissuade Mike from feeling responsible for the girl. That, plus the fact that Mike really liked Willow and thought the girl was a wonderful person sure didn't hurt their relationship.
I was sure that Willow knew of Mike's departure.
After the hacker, came my sire.
He was nuts if he thought I'd ever let him inside my home.
Even souled, I still hated the asshole, even if it was just on pure principle.
I let him knock and pound on the door like the idiot he was. After nearly five minute of making a bloody fool of himself, he left as well.
Then the phone rang.
In a drunken fit, I threw it across the living room, barely missing that horrid, huge picture window Mike had insisted on keeping when we bought the house, in front room, despite my aversion to sunlight. It cost a bloody fortune to install those blasted remote controlled blinds.
Instead, I made a nice hole in the wall, where later, I would enlarge it with my foot while raging against all those unnamed gods that watched over us immortal beings.
Then I ran out of blood wine.
For three days I had been without Mike's elixir and that awful bloodlust that Vachon had so accurately described that last night he had been in Sunnydale, arose with a ferocity that frankly, scared the hell out of me.
It was then I realized that there were drawbacks to my existence now compared to then. As a demon-vamp, I could go easily a week without blood. Hell, for years after Prague, Dru barely consumed two bloody pints a week. Sure, she was weak. But she never went mad with want. Her eyes never turned blood red with hunger.
I finally broke out of my self-imposed asylum and called Vachon.
I had never been so relieved in my life to find out that Mike, even in her present emotional state, had enough sense to make Wolf's Bane her first stop once she arrived in St. Louis. According to the Spaniard, she died of blood loss that first night—just to guarantee that I had enough of her blood in a few days—to save me from hunting once again.
As soon as he told me that the shipment was due to arrive later that night, I hung up, growling in relief.
Luckily for the delivery boy he was a vampire.
Or he would've been my first live meal in almost a year.
The Slayer would've been pissed.
And unfortunately with this bloody conscious, so would've I.
With that thought, I got drunk again.
This one lasted for nearly a week.
And yet during this whole time, it didn't once occur to me to follow her back to St. Louis. Somewhere inside, I had accepted that my home was in Sunnydale and that my life was with the Slayer and her friends.
At least for now.
~~3~~
It was the Slayer that finally broke through my drunken prison walls.
Literally.
I nearly killed her before I realized who it was.
Instead, I railed on her for breaking down my front door, all the while cursing humans and their ability to enter anywhere uninvited.
She quickly pointed out, as she straddled my chest with a steak poised above my heart, that I didn't need an invitation anymore either and to just shut the fuck up.
"You're pathetic!"
"Fuck you! Who the hell are you to tell me that? Where the hell were you this summer after you sent Angel to Hell, eh? The way I bloody see it," I grabbed the stake and yanked it out of her hand, "at least I didn't fucking run away!"
I stood up, dumping her back on her butt.
It would've been grand exit line if I hadn't fallen back against the wall in a drunken stupor.
She started giggling.
And before I realized it, I was chuckling softly.
"Are we having a moment?" she asked as she stood up, rubbing her behind.
I shrugged as a smirk curled the corner of my mouth. I finally nodded. "Yeah, I guess we are."
As she looked around the living room, I could see her mentally counting the empty wine bottles that littered the once pristine room. Clean, because believe it or not, I like it that way. Mike sure as hell wasn't a good housekeeper. Sometimes I swore I spent more time cleaning up after her than making love to her.
And this was a well known and much laughed about fact about us. The ultimate Odd Couple of Immortal Beings.
Buffy sighed as she turned and disappeared into the kitchen. I heard cabinet doors being flung open and slamming shut. The suspense was killing me.
"What the hell are you looking for?"
"Trash bags."
I frowned. "Under the sink. Why?"
She pulled out the box and walked past me back into the living room.
"Why do you think?"
She tore a black bag out of the box and began picking up the empty bottles and carefully placing them into it. "Does he want these back? Or do you recycle?"
Shaking my head, as if that would somehow sober me up, I frowned. "What?"
She pursed her lips as she stood impatiently in front of me, leaning on one leg. She held the bottle up and read the label. "Does LaCroix want these bottles back? Or is there some sort of vampire recycling center you take these to in LA? What? I'm sure you don't throw them away—not with this label."
It finally got through my cloudy brain what she was talking about. "He picks the empties up when he delivers the next shipment." I picked up a bottle, and sniffed it. Mike's essence flowed through my senses. My fangs dropped and eyes yellowed in response. "Here!" I tossed the bottle at Buffy and hurried to the kitchen for a full one. I searched through the dozen or so bottles in the refrigerator and found one of the few that had no wine in it. Yanking the cork out with my teeth, I drank deeply, feeling the bloodlust dwindle.
I didn't realize she followed me until closed the refrigerator door to see her standing behind it.
"Are you okay?"
I started chuckling at the sheer stupidity of the question. What the hell did she think? "No."
She leaned against the wall, watching me. "That bloodlust—is it because you're drinking so much or is it because you don't have Mike's blood?"
I shut my eyes, hoping to hide from her perceptiveness.
It didn't work.
"Both." I opened them and watched her as her forehead crinkled in thought. "It's stronger now, isn't it?"
I nodded.
"How much stronger?"
I shut my eyes again, feeling it rise once again. "A lot stronger. I guess it's the price one pays for his soul."
I felt the air stir as she walked around me towards the sink. I heard her open a couple of drawers, then stop. Curious, I finally I had to see what she was up to.
Once again, my slayer shocked the hell out of me.
In her hand, she held a paring knife, touching the tip with her index finger, as if to test its sharpness. She finally looked up at me, her green eyes suddenly darker and more serious than I ever seen them before.
"When the Master 'killed' me, something changed with me. If you and Dru had come back before he died, you probably would've beaten me. I don't know what changed or how it happened, but I became stronger—even more of a Slayer than I was before. "
"Where are you going with this?" I asked, feeling the Beast rise to a new, more insistent level. I grabbed the bottle of blood and drank half of it within a minute. She just watched me, silent and non-judgmental.
It suddenly occurred to me that I knew exactly where she was going with this and I didn't like it one bit.
"Get out. Don't even think about it. Don't pass go, don't collect a hundred dollars—just get the fuck out of here before I do something that neither of us would like."
She flinched—obviously surprised at the harshness of my words and the meaning behind them. I cared and she didn't know what the hell to do with that.
Well, guess what, Slayer? Neither did I.
Finally she nodded, placing the knife back down on the counter behind her and left the room. "Buffy!"
I heard her stop. Suddenly incredibly sober, I gave her a small smile. "Thanks though."
"Option's still there, Spike. If it'll keep you from enjoying all those 'happy meals with legs' out there, then it's worth it. And if my blood is anything like an Immortal's, then it can only help you. Why not? I'll just stop donating to Red Cross."
I shook my head, wanting nothing more than to take her up on the offer, but knowing that her death would be imminent if I did.
At least for now. I was too high strung.
And she had no idea of how powerful her blood was to me now—even more than it was before when I was just a mere demon-vamp.
Blood was just blood back then.
Now blood was like an auromatic banquet—each person was unique and delicious—and it made a glorious meal for us Souled-Ones. Therein lied the problem. That was why there were Enforcer's and demands for conforming Souled-One's actions. The bloodlust, that was merely a tinkle in a demon-vamp's need for evil and darkness, was all-consuming in us.
And with Mike's absence, I was finally experiencing what drove many a vampire crazy with need.
Oh, hell.
I suddenly realized she was waiting for me to speak. "I'll keep you in mind, alright?"
Feeling satisfied, she nodded. She reached the front door, hand on the knob and turned back to me. "Can you help me patrol tomorrow? Angel's gone to LA for a couple of weeks, and it's been pretty busy. With Faith gone, I need the help."
I chuckled softly. "I think I can be sober enough for you. What time?"
"How about I meet you here, since it's on the way, about 5:30. Will you be up?"
I nodded yes. "I'm usually awake by mid-afternoon."
"Cool, then I'll see ya tomorrow."
"Till tomorrow, Buffy."
I saw her grin as she disappeared out the door.
I smiled to myself as I began to clean up the house.